


Take On The Night

by Lovely_Aurora



Category: 2Cellos
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Europe, F/M, Falling In Love, Inspired by Music, Multi, Musicians, Nature, Supernatural Elements, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovely_Aurora/pseuds/Lovely_Aurora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of music, magic and wonder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Show

The night was warm but a cool breeze blew in over the rainbow-hued waters of the Adriatic as sunset broke across the sky. There was a motion to the entire landscape that made the world look as alive as a Van Gogh painting, and I absorbed it with every particle of my spirit. I felt united with the energy around me, with the sky, sea and ground, despite the sounds I was hearing.

I wish I could say that the music being performed in front of me deserved the crystal brilliance that it was surrounded by, but I couldn’t. Somehow the four musicians onstage just didn’t have that star quality I’d come to expect. I couldn’t remember their name; for me, they weren’t worth remembering after the first number. Don’t get me wrong, their voices were good, they just weren’t great. All they needed was the right song, the right audience, and they would gain enough of a following to advance their careers. They didn't have the right anything yet.

I did my best to ignore them, to focus my attention to the beauty around me. There was something here that I had only found in one other place on Earth, and that was a sense of magic. The land seemed full with it and that gave my mind freedom to transcend my physical existence, freedom to meld with the universe. 

Eventually the group wrapped up and the audience's applause, which was wild and indicated that they enjoyed the sound more than I did, tore me from my tranquility. There was a good span of time before the headliners were scheduled, so most seats vacated to the nearby merchandise vendors and restrooms. My own seat was right up front, stage right, not far from center, VIP. This usually made it hard to get out but I could afford to wait, because I knew of a restroom that the rest of the audience didn’t. It wasn't a perk, necessarily, but more of a happy accident that I'd stumbled across it earlier in the day. 

My attention turned to the stage. Not long now. My body hummed with anticipation; I would finally see him in person. All the lights were up and the crew was packing at a rapid pace. Drums were dismantled, amp cords were untangled, microphones got collected, all in a hurry to clear space for the angels that would soon astonish us all. 

A motion behind by the curtain on the far side of the stage caught my attention and I noticed it was one of the musicians. What the hell, I could give them some honorable mention in my review. I got up and approached him. A security guard stopped me, but I motioned to the musician, who waved me through. 

I stood at the edge of the stage and gave him my name with a polite smile. He smiled back and crouched down so he could hear me over the noise surrounding us. “I didn’t catch your name,” I told him.

“You can call me Riki,” he said with a flirtatious wink. 

I looked down at what I was wearing; it didn’t suggest that I was the groupie type, did it? I sure hoped he didn’t think that. He was attractive, sure, and I’d always wondered what dating Japanese men was like, but I wasn’t interested because there was somebody on the property that I was ‘in love with’, in my own way. Yes, that's who I was finally going to see in person. I wasn't sure he would like me in the same way, but just being near him this one time was enough to sustain me for life.

“You guys were great,” I lied. “What is your group name? I want to mention you in my blog.”

He said something that sounded like Daikon; I’d have to look it up later to know for sure. He started to wrap a power cord around his arm, back to work I assumed, so I turned to go. “You’re a very pretty girl,” he informed me.

I turned back to him. “Oh. Thanks.” I never knew how to react to men giving me attention. It could be polite or direct, but it was no different to me, I just…couldn’t understand why they wanted to focus on that part of me. I tried to change the subject. “How long have you guys been singing together?”

“Two years. You’re not here to see us?”

“I’m actually a fan of 2CELLOS. I’m a cellogirl.”

He laughed. “They’re no good. You should be my fan. I treat my fangirls good.”

I laughed and shook my head as I walked away. It was full dark now, their crew was finishing up the tear-down, and I knew the cello crew just had a few things to set up, so I made my way into the dark between here and there. As I walked, that same feeling came to my body that I got whenever I meditated for a good, long time. It was like I was walking on air, hovering above the ground, but at the same time it felt like I was connected to the soul of the planet. I dawdled until I reached the building they used for offices, then went through the unlocked door that led me to a brightly lit corridor with several unoccupied spaces. 

When I finished using the restroom and had made sure I was in pristine condition for the real show, I wandered outside and looked towards the stage. The crew was still occupied with setup so I pulled off my shoes and wandered through the grass. The little blades tickled my toes and I smiled as I turned my face towards the heavens. There had been a million nights like this before I could walk and there would be a million more after my legs stop working, but they would never cease to amaze. This one, I was blessed to experience.

A shooting-star flew across the sky and though it was thousands of miles away, it looked as glorious as the sun. I closed my eyes, afraid to say the one wish I kept in my heart, afraid that it wouldn’t come true, but even more afraid that it would. When I opened my eyes the stars were blurred by moisture that collected on my lashes. Thankfully I was wearing waterproof mascara. 

Sound traveled through the air and found its way into my ears. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life: the cello. A single bow pulled across her strings and female voices screamed in unison. I turned towards the stage and watched as Stjepan gave his love to the ladies of the audience in the slowest, most romantic way possible. 

Near the entrance from backstage was a figure in the dark who was almost indistinguishable from the shadows. Whoever it was, they were staring up at the stars as well; the magic of this place had captured us all. A gentle breeze blew across my almost bare back and left in the direction of the figure. As my hair flew around me the person tore their eyes from the cosmos and looked my way. We watched each other in complete stillness. Was I more than a shadow to them? Would I ever be more than a shadow to him? I had no way of knowing about either. They turned and disappeared in a crowd of other shadows. I sighed with a melancholy smile; it was time to face the music.

I got back to my seat as Luka walked out on the stage. For a moment I couldn’t breathe. He was as tall as a statue and as beautiful as a deity. He waved and smiled at the audience then sat down and began to play. I wasn’t obsessed enough to know the name of the movement but the chords, from the first draw of his bow, sent me somewhere else. I had no notion of time or space. All I could do was listen as he guided me through this experience, this undulating trapeze between total senselessness and complete immersion in brilliance. 

And then the music stopped and I was left gasping for air. My chest was heaving while Stjepan joined him onstage. The women in the audience once again screamed for their cellogods as Luka’s eyes glanced my way. I was so shy, so embarrassed, that I couldn't bring myself to hold eye contact with him. What I had seen, in that brief moment, was the look on his face; one that made me wonder if he didn’t know what his talent was capable of doing to people. 

Stjepan riled up the crowd further and they began their joint show. I wasn’t struck as before, not like Luka’s solo cello had done to me, but I was definitely carried away with the rest of the audience. Then Stjepan spoke again, words that held no meaning for me since I was one of probably a dozen fans in attendance whom only spoke English, but his pitch and resonation struck me as completely as it did the rest. He was a man who knew how to use his voice as well as he could use his body (for music, I don’t know how he uses it for anything else), something he’d undoubtedly learned from Oscar. 

Luka grabbed the microphone from him and the velvety warmth of his voice encased me like a lovers hug. I closed my eyes and trembled under the weight of it. This would be the feeling I would return to when I felt alone, when I felt the world was too much for me to handle; this was the safest place I would ever be.

I kept my eyes closed as they picked up their pace, played some of their rock hits. I opened them and watched Stjepan play for the women, watched as his temperament went from docile to ferocious. He knew how to work a crowd and I instinctively knew he employed the same tactics in other aspects of his life. However, the more important curiosity was, did Luka? I glanced his way. He was letting the music carry him to another place. I smiled. I knew that place.

They paused for a moment to drink water and I noticed their shirts were beginning to show evidence of how much work they actually had to put in to their performance. So much work and they weren’t even into the truly wild music yet. 

And then, as if on cue, Dusan emerged. The fans went crazy again. Dule, the Drumking. Things were going to kick up some serious notches now. I looked at Luka, who was looking at me. He shouldn’t be able to recognize me. I made sure I was an anonymous member of the CELLOGirl community with the exception of a few photos I shared. His eyes filled me with a heat unrivaled by anything in existence and I unintentionally cracked a half smile and looked down with a blush. My default, my defense, is to smile when I’m nervous, and boy oh boy did he make me nervous.

The temperature of the night air shot up several dozen degrees the moment the three of them began. First Dule with the beat, then Stjepan with the percussion and finally Luka with the melody. I could feel my body warm up with theirs, my breath echoed their own, and then he struck a chord that sent me away again. I felt my eyes flutter closed as something almost spiritual filled my body and influenced me towards every artistic endeavor I had ever dreamed of pursuing. 

I came back into being and felt my eyes open. He was smiling and was it just a trick of the light or did he actually perk his brow at me? He had to have known what was happening. If I could only ask him one question after the show it would be about that, whatever that was.

He watched Stjepan for a bit, watched the crowd, maybe he looked at me (I couldn’t be sure anymore), and then went to his ‘place’. His face turned towards the sky and my lip quivered. Had it been him? I looked down the length of his body, at the recently unveiled bulge of his arms and chest that practically erupted from his wet, black shirt, at the tatters and holes in his jeans, at his shoes, at every inch of his miraculous frame. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering further as I gazed longingly at the most perfect man I would ever lay eyes on. I couldn't be sure that we were as much the same as I imagined. I could, however, be sure that something about me held his gaze as he came back from his place.

I stopped breathing and kept my eyes on him. It was the most frightening thing I had ever done, letting him know that he was so deeply embedded in my heart, but I did. I met him in the space between the stars, danced with his spirit high in the night sky and created something almost tangible to those around us. When we broke contact, he set to work with his bow again, but the feeling didn’t dissolve for me. 

It was tempting to leave then, to walk away from the show and allow what had happened to be one of the untainted things in my life. If I met him, asked him about it, would he scoff? Would he laugh me out of the country? Would I hate him then as much as I love him now? Would he say he felt it, too? Would he love me? Would he show me that he was who I believed him to be? I’d always ran away from men without regret and because of it I had a pocket full of lovely memories, but none that could ever evolve into anything more. I wanted it to be different with Luka; I needed to know the reality.

I tried to keep my eyes on him, to steel my resolve towards what I was determined to do by noting a thousand different things to appreciate in these moments and not dwell on the negative possibilities, but Stjepan effectively drove all attention towards himself. Even Luka’s gravitated towards him eventually. He was the type of showman that crowds became untethered for. I turned and looked at the crowd; they moved as though the ocean’s current covered them. The energy they gave off was addictive even to me. I turned back to the stage and gave myself over to the music and the smorgasbord of pulsating life. 

I went somewhere, somewhere new, on the bridge they provided. I walked amidst the music. I ran across quarter notes and bounced on crescendo’s and when I reached the end of the bridge, I jumped. I fell with full faith that I would be carried on the wings of love back to wherever it was I belonged. I smiled fully but didn’t open my eyes. My body still waved with the others, still belonged to the rhythm. My eyes cracked open and through the almost intoxicating haze I saw my experience reflected in Luka’s face.

The call for people to go up front was put out but I didn’t move. I wanted to be surrounded by their fans, by the endless connection of one to the other. The group touched everybody differently, filled each spirit with something unique and personal. I could feel a trickle of that life leak into me, and smaller, almost unnoticed, I could feel a thread connect me to him. He might not have been my destiny, but I would always find a connection to him in this. They slowed down and I thought it was over, thought I’d gotten my fill from the bodies around me, but it was then that Dule wow’d the crowd further with his incredible drum skills. He beat the skins with such intensity that his rhythm was echoed in the heart of every patron in the building and their essence overflowed within me. I was one with everybody and no longer a singular speck floating in the void. They did me in.

The rush ended, the guys went offstage, and I felt his absence well within me. I screamed with the fans for them to return. After a minute they did. They returned to lull us all into a calm like nothing we’d felt beyond childhood. For those precious minutes we were all safe and warm in their loving embrace, and it was that feeling that most people were walking away with when the show finally did find its end. They would walk the city streets with the remnants of 2CELLOS’ intoxication riding through their systems. They would sing, they would whisper, they would try to hold on to their taste of rapture for as long as they could. Some would chase it with a bottle, most would funnel it into lovemaking. 

I almost envied them, those who would end their night in the arms of somebody they loved. Mine would not. I did have one more adventure to conquer before my night was over, and that was to meet the legends. My ticket included the brief meet and greet after the show. The process of getting there was easy enough, out and to the left. I found a crowd of people waiting anxiously. Nobody would get much time to talk, but that was probably best for the stars, who didn’t have to double their show time with fan obligations. 

My group was second to go in. We filed through the door in an orderly manner even though we were all secretly desperate to pounce on the guys and cover them in kisses. I’d say we showed exemplary behavior. The guys greeted us all with smiles and warm welcomes from their varied positions around the room. Honestly it looked like a private after-party was forming instead of a meet and greet.

I was near the back of the group when I entered, and took a moment to appreciate all the gaiety that was taking place around me. So much nervous laughter and so many wide smiles, all that positive energy was just a pleasant chaser to the evening’s brew, and everybody felt it. 

I approached Dusan when his crowd had cleared and was met with the most boyish grin I had ever seen on a man’s face. I had never thought of him as more than a drummer because thinking of him otherwise was a surefire path to a broken heart. He had found the love of his life and we all knew it was serious with them. Nobody could compete with her, so nobody sane tried.

I gave him my name and he nodded politely. “You’re one hell of a drummer, Dule.”

He smiled wider. “Thank you. Did you enjoy the show?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer so I gave him a polite one. “It was the best one I’ve ever been to.”

We spoke politely for a minute longer before I shook his hand and moved aside for the squealing girls behind me to have their moment with him. I wasn’t ready to face Luka yet, so I turned to Stjepan, who was wrapping up a conversation. 

With Stjepan, he was more familiar to me than almost any other guy, because his personality traits were almost identical to my sister’s, so I knew what to say and how to say it to get him to open up. I even had full expectations for him to flirt with me, because that was how he related to women. What I didn’t expect was for him to drape his arm over my shoulder, look me squarely in the eyes and say, “When it’s over, it’s really just beginning.” I’d looked at him for a full minute as I tried to figure out what he meant, but then he smiled as though I were a confused child and told me goodnight with a kiss on my hair.

I walked away from him in a near haze. He affected people like nobody I’d known before and I wasn’t really sure why. I’d thought I was an expert on understanding people but he was a conundrum when it suited him to be. I wanted to get to know him better, to analyze him, beyond his tweets and shenanigans to his true self. He had seemed shallow once, when I’d taken somebody’s opinion of him as concrete fact, but now he seemed to be more mysterious than I would have ever given him credit for had I not seen it with my own eyes. Who was he, underneath it all? 

I was so lost in my curiosities about Stjepan that I didn’t realize I’d wandered towards Luka. He broke through my thoughts with a simple, “Hi.”

I looked up into his face as all the air slowly drained from my lungs. “You’re…real.” It was lame, yes. I wanted to run in horror. I wasn’t that kind of person. I’d known he was real, known that he was just a person, same as me, but in that moment just being next to him was enough to steal away all rational thought.

“Yes, and so are you.” He smiled at me. “We haven’t met before, right?”

I shook my head, ‘No,’ and we would probably never meet again. He continued talking and I missed whatever it was that he’d talked about for several seconds as I studied the contours of his face, the swell oh his lips and the animated way his eyebrows further conveyed what he wanted you to feel. He knew how to use every part of his body to reach out to people and… How was I going to say anything I had wanted to say to him? How was I going to live with myself after wasting this opportunity?

He paused and held his smile as I took a breath and looked into his eyes. There was a touch of that magic deep within them, within him, and I smiled. I couldn’t bring myself to ask about his methods or his talent, but I felt deep within that we understood each other implicitly. “Are the stars always so beautiful here,” I managed to ask before the event began to wrap up. 

“Not as beautiful as your smile,” I heard Stjepan comment with that flirtatiousness he was known for. Luka winked at me and I blushed furiously. 

Somebody offered to take our photo and I handed over my phone as Stjepan put his arm around me again, but this time he rested his hand on my hip. Luka turned and put his arm around my shoulders and Dusan joined us with that inner humor he seemed to always convey. 

I smiled with the warmth of his body next to mine and the tangy-sweet scent that was uniquely his wrapped inside my heart. The night had been amazing and this, being tucked under the arm of somebody more miraculous than words could convey, was the culmination of my first ever trip overseas. There were still people to befriend, food to taste for the first time, trails to hike and views to take my breath away, but no matter what I experienced from this point on, it would be nothing to the magic of tonight.

I retrieved my phone and shook their hands one last time before I moved aside for the others. As I waited in the back of the room, my eyes were all for Luka. He was sweet and personable with every person there regardless of their situation; everybody was his friend. I smiled with the warmth of all the emotion in the room, from Luka, to goofy but flirtatious Stjepan, to happy-go-lucky Dusan, to all the people who were silently thanking their personal deities for bringing them into this moment. It was indeed a night to be thankful for.


	2. Cafe

After I left the theater, I walked through the city streets and marveled at the many shops that were still open. There was a particular café I was looking for and had bed led to believe, through my research, that my options were limited as far as innocent nightlife was concerned, but I was clearly misinformed. It seemed as though the evening coffee was as important to the people of this country as the fourth meal was to the partiers back home. I smiled with the satisfaction that I was, truly, in a place that felt like home. I hummed as I approached a building that looked like the café I had decided on.

I chose a table that sat near a window. The stars were more amazing then than they had been earlier, the air more translucent. It was as though the entire world had sharpened focus for those musicians. A waiter gently cleared his throat before he spoke to me in his native tongue. I smiled at him, still deeply cemented my dreamy mood, and ordered a cup of black coffee called crna kava and a crepe - even though I wasn’t really hungry. He smiled at my struggle to pronounce them properly and spoke to me in heavily accented English before retreating to the counter. Was it just me or did all the men of this country carry a unique attractiveness that went beyond the mere physical? 

With a smile of profound emotionality playing across my lips, I pulled out my laptop and opened my writing program. I would recreate the event in two different formats, the first for myself, for those nights when I would need the magic fresh in my mind with every detail in high definition, and the other for my readers. I wouldn’t give them all the aspects of my personal experience, but I would give them enough of it that any musical fan-base that wasn’t already theirs would immediately become theirs. 

It might’ve been an absurd way of thinking, but I felt that it was my responsibility to connect all anonymous readers with the sounds that made my life what it was. 2CELLOS had had a profound impact on my life, the same as they did for most of their fans; they added to it, made me feel complete in a way I had only dreamed possible. Listening to them, I believed in the infinite possibilities of the world, of a future I hadn’t thought could really belong to me, of the sweet bonds of the truest kind of love. There was nothing more tantalizing to me than living in a world that was filled with those notions. Even my journey into that night, into those moments, was a thing of blessing; I had dreamed of it but I had never imagined that it would happen.

I opened the file that contained their music and hit ‘play all’. As my earbuds smothered the noises of the street, they filled my head with the smooth, almost melancholy notes of the cello until I was on the edge of that place again. Keystroke by keystroke I relived my experience in full. Details emerged with each note of each track, details that I had been too deeply in hypnosis to have noticed during the show, but which were as important to me then as anything else I’d remembered. I would absolutely relive that experience when my faith in life took on shattering blows, and it would see me through, just as it had countless others.

My fingers stopped typing mid-paragraph, mid-sentence. My mind was still somewhere in space, in that magical place Luka showed me how to reach and I was reluctant to leave, even for a moment. Putting that into words, the feeling I had when his eyes slipped my way, when I felt connected to him through time and space, was proving to be a challenge. There were things that had no words, things I didn’t think any of the ancient Greek philosophers could’ve described. It was the warm weight of his spirit, the silent way it called me to him, and nothing I could write would convey that beautifully or painfully enough. I sipped on my coffee and closed my eyes. I was love struck, completely intoxicated with the way he made me feel throughout. Maybe I was love drunk. I laughed to myself at the absurdity of my situation; real love wasn’t like this, just fairy tale love. With a sigh, I played my bottom lip through my teeth. I was more than absurd, I was writing a fairy tale.

I chuckled and set my coffee down. I should be committed for those thoughts. Some words came to me, ones that partially gave credence to the situation, so I went with them for the time. I was a stickler for the editing process and in that I would find the heart of my scene, as that was all it would be to my future self, as lovely as it was. It wasn’t long before the tap of my experience was gushing again and my fingers flew a mile a minute across the keys. 

I ignored a motion, a presence beside me, as being the waiter, and kept writing. I tried not to make my piece Luka-centric but it was hard because he was the only person I wanted to think about. I highlighted Dule’s talent for thrilling the audience, gave him more credence than I would have given any other drummer, and then touched on Stjepan’s seductive techniques in a way that would make any female audience want to have him and any male audience want to be him. I laughed again at that notion and pulled my earbuds out so I could turn to the presence that was still nearby. If it was an eavesdropper, maybe it was somebody that knew the group and could offer me better insight into their offstage persona’s.

To say that I believed what I was seeing would have been a gross exaggeration of the truth, but there was no mistaking what I heard. Luka indicated towards my screen. “It’s good.” I stared at him with wide-eyed surprise as he reached in front of me and corrected the accent marks on his name. He gave it a final look over and nodded. “Now it’s perfect.”

“I…um…would…do you…uh…” Words escaped me. I closed my laptop and took a breath to clear my mind and focus myself. He was just a guy. He might be a genius and have a talent I couldn’t fathom comprehending, but he was a guy and I HAD to remember that or risk mentally beating myself up every day for the rest of my life for being such a dork. “Would you care to join me?” I asked in the most genuine tone I could manage.

He smiled sympathetically and I fully expected him to decline the offer. As awkward as I’d been, who could blame him? He nodded, pulled off his jacket and draped it casually over the back of the chair then sat across the table from me as though we were old friends. He signaled to the waiter with two elegant fingers and ordered a coffee and crepe as well. I put my laptop away while smiling at the correct pronunciation of the terms I’d struggled with while the two men spoke briefly.

After the waiter left, Luka turned his attention, and his gorgeous eyes, on me. I caught myself staring and blushed as I looked down at the table. There was nothing I could do to be normal except to get hyper caffeinated and let myself blather on like an idiot, so I took a rather large drink of my coffee and hoped it would work. 

“Mr. Sulic,” I began, “I absolutely enjoyed your performance tonight.”

He blushed and indicated my laptop. “So I read.”

I tried to hold back a smile and looked him squarely in the eye. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Make what easy?” His face held a gentle curiosity that made him as irresistibly charming as any other look he could have given me, except with this one, he seemed sincere in his inquiry. 

If he had to be careful about the kind of girls he allowed himself to get close to, then I had to be on my best behavior. My smile cracked and I bit my lip as I giggled. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be normal.” It was supposed to reassure him but it was a ridiculous notion, even to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

He laughed with me. It was a good feeling, to laugh over something as stupid as being star struck, but was an even better feeling to hear his laughter with mine. Refreshing. It occurred to me that if he could laugh with me and not make me hate myself for being who I was, then there might be hope for a true friendship. His face alit as though he had known exactly what was on my mind and agreed with it.

I was wiping away tears as the waiter brought his order and brought me a new coffee. 

I looked at the waiter. “I didn’t…” 

He looked at Luka.

“It is better when it is fresh.”

“Oh. Thank you.” It really was very kind of him. The waiter took my cold coffee away with a smile. I sipped at the new cup while trying to figure out how I should behave. This wasn’t a date, wasn’t an interview, wasn’t anything really. I’d never been good with predicting who a person needed me to be. I’ve always been able to imitate the behaviors of others and that’s what’s helped complete strangers entrust me with personal details of their lives, but with Luka, we were at a standstill. It was like a staring contest almost.

Finally, I broke the silence. “I didn’t expect to find so many shops open this late at night.”

He smiled and nodded understanding. “People here don’t stop because the day has. It is an ancient custom, to keep good company as long as we are able.”

Was it just me or was that a compliment? He gave no indication either way. I smiled anyways and raised my cup. “Here’s to good company, then.”

He raised his cup to my toast and we drank. He was right, it was much better fresh than the way I’d been drinking it. The flavors danced around in my mouth even after I set my cup down. I still had nothing to say in that moment and he seemed so cool and confident that I wasn’t sure if there was anything I could say that would make me appear the same. 

“Can I ask…about the show…?” His eyes traveled with his thoughts and I blushed. He knew, every private thought, every perceived measure of imagery had been typed up and he had likely seen the more embarrassing pieces of that. He smiled, but it was a serious smile, not the kind that held immeasurable joy or humor. “Do you always feel that way about music?” 

“As a matter of fact,” I began as I fought the heat that wanted to rise in my cheeks, “there are certain artists - writers, composers, what have you - who can take me out of my thoughts and give me the freedom to explore my imagination, but none have the capability of sending me away like you do. It’s like you’ve found David’s secret chord or something. I am…” I searched my mind for the best way to put it, “It’s as though I’m elevated to a heightened plane of existence, somewhere with no need for…physicality. It seems that all you have to do is touch your cello and you’re there, but you sent me there, too. Did you? Discover the secret chord?”

He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head slightly, and apparently studied me for a time. I took a bite of my crepe despite his gaze. Maybe he expected me to behave like any other girl, to continuously blush and stammer, to be incapable of thinking beyond the fact that he had read over my shoulder, but I didn’t. Call me silly, but I took pride in that. His head nodded slightly. Was that in answer to my question or was that an agreeable thought crossing his mind? 

“I cannot tell you.” He smiled around some deep-rooted secret. “But I like where your thoughts go. Everything connects. It is a thing of peace.”

“Everything connects…” I played with that thought. In some way or another, everything is connected to everything else; the end is the beginning. Infinity. “You may be rubbing off on Stjepan. He said something similar to me tonight.”

“I never know what to expect from him. He is very…unpredictable. Sometimes you’re the parent and sometimes you’re the child. You never know with him.”

“And sometimes,” I laughed at my own thoughts, “you’re brothers. Fighting, competing, defending one another, taking care of one another, loving, hating; it’s all there, right?”

He chuckled and glanced out the window. I don’t know what he saw but he jumped up suddenly. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Please excuse me.” He left some money on the table and ran out the door. 

I wasn’t sure what to make of his sudden departure, but when I looked out the window after him, I saw him approaching another woman. I tried not to feel anything about it, tried to brush it off, but the presence of his crepe and coffee next to what appeared to be enough money to cover both our orders, sent something of a brief pain through my chest. I didn’t know anything about dating or having coffee with complete strangers, but I didn’t like what I felt. 

I picked up my things in a hurry and flagged down the waiter. He verified that the money was enough to cover the entire bill, so I left it all with him and set out for my hotel. If I stayed, I would watch for him while convincing myself that he might come back. I would let it weigh on me and when hours passed without seeing him again, I would drag myself away with a heavy heart. I would remember that experience more vividly than even the show. If I obsessed over him, my trip would be ruined. He was worth a lot to me, but he wasn’t worth losing these opportunities to negative emotions. There were adventures to be had, and walking away from the café at that moment left me with optimism for the rest of my stay; it wouldn’t be colored by his appearance or disappearance, and that was enough to get me to my room, into my bed and asleep without another thought to why he would behave as he had.


	3. Café

After I left the theater, I walked through the city streets and marveled at the many shops that were still open. There was a particular café I was looking for and had bed led to believe, through my research, that my options were limited as far as innocent nightlife was concerned, but I was clearly misinformed. It seemed as though the evening coffee was as important to the people of this country as the fourth meal was to the partiers back home. I smiled with the satisfaction that I was, truly, in a place that felt like home. I hummed as I approached a building that looked like my destination.

I chose a table near a window and sat so I could look out into the world. The stars were more amazing then than they had been earlier, the air more translucent. It was as though the entire world had sharpened focus for those musicians. A waiter gently cleared his throat before he spoke to me in his native tongue. I smiled at him, still deeply cemented my dreamy mood, and ordered a cup of black coffee, crna kava. He smiled at my struggle to pronounce them properly and spoke to me in heavily accented English before retreating to the counter. Was it just me or did all the men of this country carry a unique attractiveness that went beyond the mere physical? 

With a smile of profound emotionality playing across my lips, I pulled out my laptop and opened my writing program. I would recreate the event for myself, for those nights when I would need the magic fresh in my mind with every detail in high definition, and write an equally compelling, albeit less personal one, for my blog. I wouldn’t give them all the magic I’d experienced, but I would give them enough of it that any musical fan-base that wasn’t already theirs, would immediately become theirs. 

It might’ve been an absurd way of thinking, but I felt that it was my responsibility to connect all anonymous readers with the sounds that made my life what it was. 2CELLOS had had a profound impact on my life, the same as they did for most of their fans; they added to it, made me feel complete in a way I had only dreamed possible. Listening to them, I believed in the infinite possibilities of the world, of a future I hadn’t thought could really belong to me, of the sweet bonds of the truest kind of love. There was nothing more tantalizing to me than living in a world that was filled with those notions. Even my journey into that night, into those moments, was a thing of blessing; I had dreamed of it but I had never imagined that it would happen.

I opened the file that contained their music and hit ‘play all’. As my earbuds smothered the noises of the café patrons, my head was again filled with the smooth, almost melancholy notes of the cello until I was on the edge of that place again. Keystroke by keystroke I relived my experience in full. Details emerged with each note of each track, details that I had been too deeply in hypnosis to have noticed during the show, but which were as important to me then as anything else I’d remembered. I would absolutely relive that experience; when my faith in life, in everything good and right took on shattering blows, they would see me through, just as they had countless other times.

My fingers stopped typing mid-paragraph, mid-sentence. My mind was still somewhere in space, in that magical place Luka showed me how to reach and I was reluctant to leave, even for a moment. Putting that into words, the feeling I had when his eyes slipped my way, when I felt connected to him through time and space, was proving to be a challenge. There were things that had no words, things I didn’t think any of the ancient Greek philosophers could’ve described. It was the warm weight of his spirit, the silent way it called me to him, and nothing I could write would convey that beautifully or painfully enough. I sipped on my coffee and closed my eyes. I was love struck, completely intoxicated with the way he made me feel throughout. Maybe I was love drunk. I laughed to myself at the absurdity of my situation; real love wasn’t like this, just fairy tale love. With a sigh, I played my bottom lip through my teeth. I was more than absurd, I was writing a fairy tale.

I chuckled and set my coffee down. I should be committed for those thoughts. Some words came to me, ones that partially gave credence to the situation, so I went with them for the time. I was a stickler for the editing process and in that I would find the heart of my scene, as that was all it would be to my future self, as lovely as it was. It wasn’t long before the tap of my experience was gushing again and my fingers flew a mile a minute across the keys. 

I ignored a motion, a presence beside me, as being the waiter, and kept writing. I tried not to make my piece Luka-centric but it was hard because he was the only person I wanted to think about. I highlighted Dule’s talent for thrilling the audience, gave him more credence than I would have given any other drummer, and then touched on Stjepan’s seductive techniques in a way that would make any female in my audience want to have him and any male in my audience want to be him. I laughed again at that notion and pulled my earbuds out so I could turn to the presence that was still nearby. If it was an eavesdropper, maybe it was somebody that knew the group and could offer me better insight into their offstage persona’s.

To say that I believed what I was seeing would have been a gross exaggeration of the truth, but there was no mistaking what I heard. Luka indicated towards my screen. “It’s good.” I stared at him with wide-eyed surprise as he reached in front of me and corrected the accent marks on his name. He gave it a final look over and nodded. “Now it’s perfect.”

“I…um…would…do you…uh…” Words escaped me. I closed my laptop and took a breath to clear my mind and focus myself. He was just a guy. He might be a genius and have a talent I couldn’t fathom comprehending, but he was a guy and I HAD to remember that or risk mentally beating myself up every day for the rest of my life for being such a dork. “Would you care to join me?” I managed to ask in a professional tone, but inside I was burning with embarrassment and shock.

He smiled sympathetically and I fully expected him to decline the offer. As awkward as I’d been, who could blame him? He nodded, pulled off his jacket and draped it casually over the back of the chair then sat across the table from me as though we were old friends. He signaled to the waiter with two elegant fingers and ordered a coffee as well. I put my laptop away while smiling at the correct pronunciation of the terms I’d struggled with while the two men spoke briefly.

After the waiter left, Luka turned his attention, and his gorgeous eyes, on me. I caught myself staring and blushed as I looked down at the table. There was nothing I could do to be normal except to get hyper caffeinated and let myself blather on like an idiot, so I took a rather large drink of my coffee and hoped it would work. 

“Mr. Sulic,” I began, “I absolutely enjoyed your performance tonight.”

He blushed and indicated my laptop. “So I read.”

I tried to hold back a smile and looked him squarely in the eye. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Make what easy?” His face held a gentle, teasing curiosity that made him as irresistibly charming as any other look he could have given me. 

If he had to be careful about the kind of girls he allowed himself to get close to, then I had to be on my best behavior. My smile cracked and I bit my lip as I giggled. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be normal.” It was supposed to reassure him but it was a ridiculous notion, even to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. “I’m not doing a very good job.”

He laughed with me. It was a good feeling, to laugh over something as stupid as being star struck, but was an even better feeling to hear his laughter with mine. Refreshing. It occurred to me that if he could laugh with me and not make me hate myself for being who I was, then there might be hope for a true friendship. His face alit as though he had known exactly what was on my mind and agreed with it.

I was wiping away tears as the waiter brought his order and brought me a new coffee. 

I looked at the waiter. “I didn’t…” 

He looked at Luka.

“It is better when it is fresh.”

“Oh. Thank you.” It really was very kind of him. The waiter took my cold coffee away with a smile. I sipped at the new cup while trying to figure out how I should behave. This wasn’t a date, wasn’t an interview, wasn’t anything really. I’d never been good with men, with being that casual girl they all flock towards. I could imitate the behaviors of others, and that’s what’s helped complete strangers entrust me with personal details of their lives, but with Luka, we were at a standstill. It was almost like a staring contest.

Finally, I broke the silence. “I didn’t expect to find so many shops open this late at night.”

He smiled and nodded understanding. “People here don’t stop because the day has. It is an ancient custom, to keep good company as long as we are able.”

Was it just me or was that a compliment? He gave no indication either way. I smiled anyways and raised my cup. “Here’s to good company, then.”

He raised his cup to my toast and we drank. He was right, it was much better fresh than the way I’d been drinking it. The flavors danced around in my mouth even after I set my cup down. I still had nothing to say in that moment and he seemed so cool and confident that I wasn’t sure if there was anything I could say that would make me appear the same. 

“Can I ask…about the show…?” His eyes traveled with his thoughts and I blushed. He knew, every private thought, every perceived measure of imagery had been typed up and he had likely seen the more embarrassing pieces of that. He smiled, but it was a serious smile, not the kind that held immeasurable joy or humor. “Do you always feel that way about music?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact,” I began as I fought the heat that wanted to rise in my cheeks, “there are certain artists - writers, composers, what have you - who can take me out of my thoughts and give me the freedom to explore my imagination, but none have the capability of sending me away like you do. It’s like you’ve found David’s secret chord or something. I am…” I searched my mind for the best way to put it, “It’s as though I’m elevated to a heightened plane of existence, somewhere with no need for…physicality. It seems that all you have to do is touch your cello and you’re there, but you sent me there, too.” I looked at him and felt suddenly at ease. “Did you? Discover the secret chord?”

He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head slightly, and apparently studied me for a time before he finally said, “I cannot tell you.” He smiled around some deep-rooted secret. “But I like where your thoughts go. Everything connects. It is a thing of peace.”

“Everything connects…” I played with that thought. In some way or another, everything is connected to everything else; the end is the beginning. Infinity. “You may be rubbing off on Stjepan. He said something similar to me tonight.”

“I never know what to expect from him. He is very…unpredictable. Sometimes you’re the parent and sometimes you’re the child. You never know with him.”

“And sometimes,” I laughed at my own thoughts, “you’re brothers. Fighting, competing, defending one another, taking care of one another, loving, hating; it’s all there, right?”

He chuckled and glanced out the window. I don’t know what he saw but he jumped up suddenly. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Please excuse me.” He left some money on the table and ran out the door. 

I wasn’t sure what to make of his sudden departure, but when I looked out the window after him, I saw him approaching another woman. I tried not to feel anything about it, tried to brush it off, but the presence of his coffee next to what appeared to be enough money to cover both our orders, sent something of a brief pain through my chest. I didn’t know anything about dating or having coffee with complete strangers, but I didn’t like what I felt. 

I picked up my things in a hurry and flagged down the waiter. He verified that the money was enough to cover the entire bill, so I left it all with him and set out for my hotel. If I stayed, I would watch for him in the hopes that he might come back. I would let it weigh on me and when hours passed without seeing him again, I would drag myself away with a heavy heart. I would remember that experience more vividly than even the show. If I obsessed over him, I would be ruined. He was worth a lot to me, but he wasn’t worth that. There were adventures to be had, and walking away from the café at that moment left me with optimism for the rest of my journey; it wouldn’t be colored by his appearance or disappearance. That was enough to get me to my room, into my bed and asleep so that I could start the next leg of my trip refreshed and at ease.


End file.
